One of a Kinds

Last winter I had the not very pleasant experience of dating a man who like me grew up here in Dubuque. As a child he lived on West Eighth, one of our many steep peaks in town.  During one of our conversations I brought up James Kinds, a local blues musician, and he said, hey, James moved into his old family home. I kept this information stored in my frontal lobe for future reference. A few months ago I moved, just a few blocks from James’ abode. And then I thought of James. I drove past the house and was baffled to see a couple of young  white woman on the cluttered porch; young children aplenty. I thought, no, this must be the wrong address. I rechecked and even went online to search for James and that was the correct address. However when I called the number listed as his current number on the site a woman answered and when I asked for James she didn’t sound too pleased and said, Jim? I said no, I was looking for James Kinds and this was the last phone number listed for him. She said no one lived there by that name and “don’t call this number again.” Okay. About ten minutes later I was waiting in the Wendy’s Drive Thru and my cell rings and it’s “Jim” asking if I was looking for him. Again I explained I had found this number listed for James Kinds online and evidently it no longer was his. Than wifey got back on the line and told me in no uncertain terms not to call Jim again and being peeved cause some dumb shit was taking way too long ordering I let her have it. I do feel sorry for Jim, probably some poor hick with a big fat wife who obviously has no trust in her man. She hung up; she must have figured she was no match for my mouth when I get going. I still have the number in the phone and one of these nights I’m going to have me some fun.

But back to James. Years ago, in the early 2000’s I worked for one of our local hospitals in the homecare department. James’ wife Marilyn suffered from several debilitating illnesses and hence was a client. I spent a lot of time at Marilyn’s and James’ apartment, then on West Locust. And it was always my pleasure. Marilyn was a sweetheart, however addicted to many prescription drugs. Usually when I would visit she would be feeling no pain, and god bless her, I don’t blame her. She suffered greatly and thank god she had a man like James because he cared for her solicitously. Many times I would visit and Marilyn would say just take my vitals but skip the bath; you work too hard and you need to rest. We’ll just say you did. So I would sit and visit. James was usually present and I had the enjoyable opportunity to converse with him. James too was usually feeling no pain, and perceiving a rough life I made no judgments; as if I had room to judge on in that department! James told me he and Marilyn were from Chicago via Mississippi. I really blew James’ mind when I started talking Chicago blues versus Memphis blues; he was surprised this white woman here to take care of his wife knew so much of this genre.  You know, I don’t know if they were ever legally married; Marilyn claimed they were and proudly wore the beautiful rings James had given her among many other jewels. But I knew she and James had an “arrangement”, Marilyn being so ill was unable to make love with her man therefore James was free to pursue whoever. And James didn’t hide this from her or anyone else; typical musician.  Poor Marilyn, when her scripts didn’t provide enough relief she was compelled to pawn her valuables thus not always having her full regalia on display. She maintained her ebony skin beautifully and her bone structure, especially her long fingers, could put a hand model to shame and when she had possession of all her rings, necklaces, and bracelets she was a sight to behold. The household also sustained various youngsters, progeny of Marilyn’s children who would come and go, leaving the young ones with Grandma. One of her daughters had recently been released from prison and at first she intimidated me. One day I just verbally gave it back to her and she started talking to me in a more amicable manner. I would see her downtown towing her brood and she would always ask me for a cigarette and I would pull out my pack and give it to her (very small token from one who comes from opportunity and privilege to one who had virtually nothing from the get go). She would say, go visit mom, she would love to see you (this was after I left the nursing service). I remember her giving me Marilyn and James’ new address and recall West Eighth Street. I never did go over and I have sorely regretted it since; Marilyn passed away a few years back and I miss her. I stopped visiting her because she made me angry one day. On a day off I offered to take her shopping and out to lunch which she happily agreed to. She asked me to drive across the bridge to East Dubuque, IL so she could pick up some cash from a friend who owed her. I obliged but once over there realized good old Marilyn was selling her Oxycontin and being an “accessory” albeit unknown (try telling that to the judge) I just might have been sent up the river for a few years (my kids were still small at the time; a nightmare I did not want to live) shit, possession with intent to deliver across state lines. So I decided I was through with Marilyn for the time being.

I continued to see James at various venues in Dubuque. His band, The All Night Riders, was popular on our local music circuit for a few years. And man, could James deliver. And then all of a sudden he was gone. Well today my search ended for I know now where James Kinds resides. I inadvertently found this info out today when I visited our local “head shop” and saw James’ last CD on the shelf. I exclaimed, “I’ve been looking for James.” One of the clerks told me he moved back to Chicago to live with his son and use to visit Dubuque and stay at the motel he works at every now and then but not recently. I asked him if James was still playing and he said, probably not, he was in no shape; “under the influence,  if ya know what I mean.” Yeah, I know what you mean, pal. I purchased the CD http://www.nodepression.com/profiles/blogs/review-james-kinds-love-you (along with two Johnny Winter bootleg cd’s) and couldn’t wait to get in my car and give James a “spin.” Yep, James Kinds, alright. His voice (and guitar playing) brought him back full force. Track four, Mason Dixon Line Blues, kindles my soul, followed by Crack Headed Woman which is pure jive. Track 8, Take A Look At Yourself throws me back to Soul Train. This CD showcases Jame's versatility; by far my favorite of all of his CD's. I can still see him playing behind the Mississippi Mud on balmy summer nights. One night he was playing in a bar and of course being Dubuque the clientele was mostly white. James would get to feeling good while up on stage and come down and sing to the ladies. One night a table consisting of two white men and what must have been there fat middle aged wives left in a huff. How dare a black man woo white women like that-- What a couple of assholes. One of the men was my insurance man, but no more. James liked to have fun and not only was he able to play and sing the blues superbly he also was a genteel man who liked to kid around and have fun. So James, wherever you are I send you good thoughts and pray some day we meet again.

July 2, 2012 - I received an email from a person who who wishes to remain anonymous. When one comments anonymously then the author of the blog has the choice to publish the comment or not. I choses to publilsh this and then "explain" my statement regarding James having "been under the influence" This information regarding James' state of health saddens me tremendously; I think European audiences would love James and give him more of the recognition he deserves. I pray that he recovers his health. To me James is not only a fantastic musician and singer (been playing his most recent CD every time I get in my car and his voice cuts right thru my soul) but more importantly a generous and wonderful human being. When I would "visit" he always took time to talk with me and would always, always, be most gracious. I apologize if my blog was taken "wrong"; what I wrote is something that happened along my journey in this world; its my blog and thats what I do. What I wrote was a testimony to how I felt about James and Marilyn; I had much affection for the both of them and feel I have put that across in what I wrote. As for the "under the influence" statement I heard via a clerk at Moondog; well, I'm sorry that comment is all his young mind could perceive of James. I personally did not witness James visiting Dubuque in recent years "under the influence" and in the blog I sarcastically reply to the clerk's statement (I know what ya mean, pal) was meant with sarcasm, for I personally know what under the influence means; unfortunately written prose via the internet can be easily misinterpreted. It was certainly not meant to be a "subtle" reference to James state of mind but rather what was told to me (and I'm sure to others as well) and hence, my SARCASTIC answer. But thats not important; whats important is that we all keep James in our hearts and prayers cause he gave so much of himself to everyone he came in contact with--Amy